Arthur was doing something to the rich foliage already apparent around his home. Pruning, maybe? She thought he had scissors or something similar in his hand. She waved and herded Festus into the backyard to do his business. Then she went in the house and pulled out a frozen pizza for dinner.
Tomorrow she’d work on her garden and lead Arthur into discussions about the Davies family. Lanford might not believe his brother or father could have enemies, and he might not want to tell her who he’d upset in the past, but she was a police officer. She could find out her own information.
* * *
Arthur shook his bald head.
“You put in pumpkins and they’ll take over the whole patch. That’s not good value. You can buy pumpkins from farmers around here if you really want some. Nice beans, on the other hand... They’re good value. They give you a lot of food for a small space.”
Sarah wasn’t fond of beans, but it wasn’t worth arguing. She could give Arthur the beans if he liked them that much. Assuming they survived.
She loved pumpkin pie but had never tried to make it from actual pumpkins. That might be more of a challenge than she wanted to attempt. In any case, it wasn’t a hill she was going to die on. Beans it was.
“Can I ask you something, Arthur?”
Arthur looked up from where he was kneeling beside her vegetable patch. No, this was going to be Arthur’s second vegetable patch. Sarah had no delusions about that.
“You want corn now, right?”
Corn was an improvement over beans, as far as Sarah was concerned, but she shook her head.
“I wanted to know about some people who used to live here in town. I hoped you might remember them.”
Arthur pushed himself to his feet. Sarah was tempted to offer assistance, but he’d been upset when she’d done that previously, so she waited for him to straighten.
“I’ve lived here all my life. I probably knew them.”
“The Davies?”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “Oh. The Davies. I’d heard Lanford got out of prison and was staying at the parsonage. Is that why you’re asking?”
Sarah nodded. She didn’t offer further details, but she didn’t need to. Arthur was off and running.
“His mother, Marta Davies, was the sweetest girl. She was a few years behind me in school. And Lewis absolutely adored her.
“They were high school sweethearts. Really cute couple. He was more of an athlete, while she was an excellent student. She got a scholarship to go to college.
“Then she got pregnant, so they married and she took some classes at the community college instead. Went to work for a dentist. Riordan was their eldest. He took after his dad, as far as athletics went. He was a runner, and a good one. He got a full scholarship to Penn State for running.”
Sarah nodded again, but didn’t interrupt to tell him that she knew that part.
“Riordan, or Dan as everyone called him, was a nice kid, super nice, but shy.”
“Everyone liked him? No one was jealous or anything?”
Arthur snorted. “Well, of course, some guys resented that he was better at track than they were. But it wasn’t anything serious. He didn’t brag about his talents, didn’t cause trouble—just a good, quiet kid. Not like some.”
Arthur sniffed.
“Like some?” It didn’t take much to keep Arthur going.
“For example, Billy Robertson.”
For some reason that name rang a bell.
Arthur’s face showed his opinion of Billy. “That boy had enemies—well, as much as one does in high school. His family were the wealthy ones here in town. Billy was the kid who had the gaming systems everyone wanted and got a car for his sixteenth birthday. And he was the kind to brag. He wasn’t a big guy, not very good-looking, so he tried to make up for it by showing off, you know? To make himself more special.
“No one liked him, except Dan. Still not sure why, but Dan was just that nice of a kid. Billy would have had a much rougher go of it at school if he hadn’t had Dan as a friend.”
Arthur paused, dwelling on the mystery of that long-ago friendship.
“What happened to Billy?”
“Eh, Billy? The whole family moved away—not long after the fire at the Davies place. His parents died in a car accident. He’s in the city, probably bragging about his money to everyone now.”
She needed to work out why the name Billy Robertson stuck out to her, but she could do that later.
“What about Lanford?”
* * *
Lanford opened his notebook and flipped to a blank page.
Dear Anton:
He tapped his pen on the table, and finally continued.
I hope things are going well for you. I can tell you’ve been praying for me, because things are going well here.
The pastor the chaplain referred me to has provided a place to stay and given me work at the church. The place isn’t fancy, but they stocked it up with food and towels and sheets and things, so I’m good to go.
The work is mostly cleaning and taking care of the church and parsonage. It’s all stuff I can handle, and doesn’t cause any stress, so I’m happy with that.
I worry about the pastor. He’s almost too good to be true. He keeps asking if he can do more for me. I know some guys that would take advantage of him, so tell the chaplain to be careful who he sends this way. I’d hate to see the guy ripped off.
Lanford did worry about Pastor Harold. He’d let Lanford use his office for a phone call, and Lanford could have been calling anyone. Harold had offered him keys for the buildings, in case Lanford needed access if there was an emergency.
Lanford had declined. If something went missing, he didn’t want to be one of the people with access to the building outside of business hours.
Lanford wasn’t inspired to find ways to take advantage of the pastor or the church. He wanted to sit Harold down and explain to him what the real world was like. But he also knew that his own perspective on the real world was formed from eighteen years in prison, and some TV shows and movies.
Still, he was sure his own cynicism was more realistic than Harold’s idealism. If nothing else, it put Lanford at more risk. With this much accessibility, if something happened at the church, Lanford could be blamed, and he was an easy scapegoat.
He sighed. Guess it wasn’t really stress free, but he wouldn’t worry Anton.
Like we talked about, I went to the sheriff’s office to explain what I planned to do. It’s a new sheriff, which isn’t surprising, but it’s a woman, which was.
He hadn’t paid much attention to her, that first visit. He’d expected the sheriff who’d arrested him would be in the office. He’d been relieved to find someone new, hoping she’d be less biased. He’d also hoped not to have to deal with the sheriff much during his mission, but he’d known that wasn’t likely.
He hadn’t been surprised she wanted to talk to him again, but he’d been taken aback that she was willing to entertain the idea that he was innocent. Because of that, he hadn’t wanted to confess all the stuff he’d done as a kid.
Which was probably stupid. It’s not like she couldn’t find out. Juvenile records were supposed to be sealed, but he didn’t believe that would hold. Once she accessed that information, it would make him more suspicious, less believable.
But when she’d found him standing outside the gates at what had been his old home, he’d noticed her. Noticed that she was pretty, with shiny brown hair in a ponytail, warm brown eyes and freckles over her nose, as if she’d been in the sun.
He liked her voice, and that she was smart. And that made him want to impress her.
That was incredibly stupid. She was attractive, intelligent and obviously capable. He had no idea why she was working here, in a small backwater town, but he was an ex-con. She was a cop. Even if he could prove he was innocent, he was still a gu
y who’d been in prison for eighteen years.
They were naturally in opposition. And even though he’d noticed she didn’t wear a wedding ring, he had nothing to offer her. Nothing but looks that girls used to appreciate.
He gave himself a bit of slack: he had been in prison for eighteen years, and this was the first pretty woman he’d spent time with. He just had to remember that she was helping him and that was as far as it could go. Even that was close to a miracle. He would be stupid to mess it up.
Also, she’s helping me.
At least, that’s what she says. I’m suspicious, but she said it would be better for her to know what I’m doing in case some kind of trouble pops up. The kid I was before would be nothing but trouble, but I hope this time I can behave. The only trouble I want is for the person who set that fire. And like we talked about, not for revenge, but so that he pays for what he did, legally.
I called the company my dad worked for. Dad’s boss, Mr. Dawson, is retired, but I can go talk to him, when I can get a ride to Pittsburgh. Not sure when that will be.
It had been a shock to find out Marvin Dawson had retired. In his head, he still expected that the world was the same as the one he’d left eighteen years ago. But everything had changed.
Yet another reminder of what he’d lost.
Yes, he’d lost eighteen years, but he’d been on a bad path. And when he’d gone to prison, he’d found the best cellmate he could have asked for. Thanks to Anton, he’d been protected from some of the worst that happened in a prison. Anton was big and scary. He spent a lot of his time working out, and it showed.
Not that Anton got in fights or tried to bully others. Anton was a Christian.
It had taken a few years for Lanford to take that step himself, but it had changed his life, for the better. If he’d stayed on the path he’d been on in his teens, he could be in much worse trouble. Probably would be.
He was free now. He vowed not to waste that gift.
I hope you get to read this. I pray for you, and the guys in our Bible study group.
Lanford
Lanford carefully tore the page out of the notebook. He’d need to buy some stamps and envelopes. Harold had some in his office, but Lanford wasn’t going to ask for more from Harold.
He flipped back to the beginning of the notebook. The part where he’d listed the consequences of the fire that night.
He updated his notes with what he and Sarah had done. He didn’t list anything under number four, the people who’d want him in prison. He hadn’t started on that alternative yet. He’d also yet to apologize to the people he’d hurt. He realized, again with a shock, that some of them might not even be alive, and some he suspected were gone from this town.
The last item? He had no idea how to deal with that. If someone wanted to kill him, he didn’t have a clue who it could be. If they still wanted him dead, he didn’t have much to prevent them. Except God.
“I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.”
With that, Lanford changed for bed, and lay down and slept.
Chapter Six
Sarah rotated her attendance at Sunday morning services among all the churches in town. She would have preferred to attend one church, but she didn’t want to show favoritism that would lead anyone to believe she was biased for or against anyone in her jurisdiction. She varied her attendance, so that it didn’t look as deliberate as it was.
Some Sundays she didn’t feel God’s presence as much as others, but if nothing else, the chance to sit and make space for God was a good thing.
This week she purposely went to her favorite of the local churches. It so happened to be the one where Lanford was currently working and residing. Her instinct might tell her that he was exactly who he presented himself as, but her instinct was not infallible.
She remembered her neighbor’s description of Lanford.
“He was a good-looking boy. I figure the best-looking kid in town at that time. All the girls admired him, for sure.
“It wasn’t just the students, either. He got away with a whole lot. When I was teaching, I saw him around the high school when he was still too young for the place. He was trouble. Not serious trouble, mostly pranks and jokes, and people would forgive him just about anything. He’d smile, flash his dimples, and people were ready to let him get away with whatever.
“Then his mother died. That was just before he started high school, so I saw how it affected him. His dad, well, he’d always been a trucker, away for days, but they’d been a happy family. His dad just closed up after Marta died, though.
“I think those boys lost both parents, in many ways, after she passed. Lewis kept working, so he was away for days at a time. Then a couple of years later, Dan went off to Penn State, and Lanford was left on his own.
“Legally, I know, he was old enough, but that’s when he started to get into real trouble. Vandalism—he was responsible for a lot of graffiti at the school. We heard of kids drinking, even some drugs, and I’m sure Lanford was part of that.
“Didn’t stop the girls, though, and he could still get away with things. But it was different. I remember, freshman year, he was late on an assignment. He told me he’d left it in his dad’s truck, so he couldn’t get it for a few days.
“Then he gave me that cheeky smile. Problem was, I’d heard him talking with some of the other kids, and I knew he was lying. He didn’t get away with it, not that time, and not with me, but he did get away with a lot.
“By senior year, he wasn’t even trying. He lied to my face, told me he’d get the assignment in tomorrow and then smiled. But it was a smirk with no humor behind it. He just didn’t care. By then he knew what he could get away with. Didn’t work with many of the teachers by then, but there was no one to rein him in.
“I always felt sorry for him. Well, until the arson. I don’t believe he meant to kill his family, but he was on a path to trouble, and his family paid the price.”
Sarah had no reason to doubt what Arthur had said. She had no knowledge of the boy Lanford had been. The man she’d talked to had been very different, but it had been many years since he was the high school troublemaker, and he’d been through a lot.
She sent up a quick prayer of apology. She was sitting in church, and her attention wasn’t on the sermon. Which was a shame because she appreciated Harold’s sermons.
Instead, she was watching Lanford a couple of rows ahead.
She wasn’t the only one.
He’d been a very good-looking boy, there was no doubt. There were pictures of him in the file in her office from the night of the fire. He’d been shocked, hungover and still noticeably attractive.
He was also a good-looking man, but the pull was different.
She had no idea about whether he still had the dimples because he didn’t smile. He had the silent, broody thing going in full force. And she wondered what that might do, here in this small town where he had a history.
She’d come to this service, in simple truth, to check if he was going to do as he’d claimed the first day she’d met him in her station. He’d said he was sober and going to church.
She had reached out to get information on the cousin in Australia, as she’d told Lanford, but she’d also tapped some contacts she had in the judicial system to find out what he’d been like as a prisoner. She was waiting to get those reports back. She also knew that prison was a different world, and people would and did behave differently there.
Checking on whether Lanford was in church was a quick way to verify how he might behave on the outside. No ex-con was going to tell a cop that he was planning to break the law, but what one said and what one did could contradict.
Lanford was exactly where he said he’d be. In a pew, at church. She could ask Harold about him, but Harold would put the best possible spin on the situation.
> She wasn’t clergy, she wasn’t social services—she was the law. That had been beaten into her brain recently. She needed a clear head and an objective mind.
She would do nothing to make his path more difficult, but her job was to protect all the citizens of this town, not just one.
Yet her gaze kept wandering toward him.
His attention was focused on Harold, and he followed all the elements of the service closely. From her vantage point, she could see the other congregants, and how they were responding to his presence.
Some anger and suspicion. Some speculation. A few ignored him, probably newcomers or younger people who didn’t know his past.
Sarah could try to convince herself that she was, in a sense, working when she watched Lanford and tried to evaluate his sincerity, but she didn’t want to lie to herself.
She pictured the attractive prankster who’d used his charm on people, and then the sulky teenager from his file pictures. She couldn’t help comparing those to the man in the pew. He was dressed appropriately, behaved impeccably and showed not a smidgen of charm or humor. How tough had prison been on him? Had it changed his total character, or just layered a hard shell over the person he’d been?
None of these thoughts were work related. She wanted to understand him as a person and find out more.
And that was a problem. Because she was supposed to be objective, and she feared she wasn’t just losing her objectivity, but that she might not be able to get it back.
* * *
Was the sheriff checking on him?
Probably. It would make sense. He was an ex-con, he’d told her he was planning to look into his case, and if she asked about him, everyone in this town would say he’d been trouble.
He didn’t even know if she came to church or was just here to see if he had lied.
It shouldn’t bother him, but he was relieved, after the service, when she greeted Harold as a friend. She’d been right behind him when he shook hands with Harold, so he was close enough to hear their conversation. It was apparent that she came to church often. But not just here. Harold mentioned being surprised it was “their turn.”
Out of the Ashes Page 5